Best Cobble Poems


Premium Member 'silent Cheerleader'

All your fears
Trembling thoughts 
Add to uneasiness

You can't see beyond this moment 
You can't grasp the intent 

The impact it might have 
You have not walked this road before
The cobble stones might hinder you 

You were chosen for today
Way before you could fathom your will 

It's in the baby steps 
In the calmness of your core 
Draw your strength from your soul

The silent yet loudest cheerleader 
Of them all


@141020142015
Categories: cobble, introspection, life,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member 'why the Earth Wobbles"

Internal Rhyme

The Sonic of the earth’s plate tectonics was given birth
By the  unbalanced wobble of the earth
While the wobbling of the natural earth
By carnal mind invention, was given birth
By the carnal act reversing Love’s intention

This is how the earth reveals how Love feels
About the mind’s rejection of Love’s perfection
Earth reels to and fro as a drunk man on the go
Now by our earth’s wobble, our earth is gobbled
Recycling itself, until nothing is left
Of reflected self of carnal human race

With the carnal mind’s every day fast pace
Purity of earth’s internal fire, in a race
It will devour, the external nature
The carnal nature of carnal wager
Made with the man, concerning Love’s plan
By Love, the Dove, giving life it’s stand

Earth in it’s perfection, but mind’s rejection
Which be reverse of Love’s balanced intention
Previously mentioned, by man in God’s plan
Continues to wobble as humans cobble

The carnal mind’s extent, to it’s own intent
Sowing extensions of strife, instead of life
Recompensing together, disregards weather
The signs of the times that lines, within the minds
Of the wise virgins, of truth’s purgation
From the intention, of carnal mind invention

Note: Just a little something my heart gave me, explaining why our earth wobbles on it axis. 
I am sure some minds will think this is too simple to take serious. I am sure also our earth’s 
weather would be calm if it’s rotation was in balance. The mind’s logic, is it own worse 
enmity!
Categories: cobble, inspirationalearth,
Form: Narrative

Premium Member I Long For Paris City Lights

there is no better way to greet the morning sun
than with a hot croissant and café au lait
on a quaint terrace in the mecca of fashion elegance
striking a pose à la Coco Chanel
before hitting the perfumeries
and climbing the heights of the Eiffel Tower
to get that bird’s eye view of the Seine
and watch twilight descend on Paris
as street lights burst in clusters
catching her running down the cobble streets
just like Cinderella



AP: 3rd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2025, Honorable Mention 2021
Categories: cobble, adventure, city, fantasy, fashion,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Reincarnation of Turkey Tom - a Collaboration

*if ya wanna add some sillies, hop on the wagon!


After the feast, Tommy was gone
Hen said, "Don't worry, won't be for long."
"He'll reincarnate,
Just sit and wait."
"He's not just SOME - POET, Tommy's a song."

"He's always a gas, loads of fun,
With plenty of wit and good with a pun."
"If you miss him,
Be sure to kiss 'em,
When he comes again to shine like the sun."

By Jan Allison:

When he struts it engorges his snood
Oh my goodness that really sounds rude
It dangles from his beak 
You must go take a peek
See Tom is the king of his brood.

By ilene bauer:

He was missed, though, by all of his group
Who felt bad he was out of the loop
So they jotted some rhymes
Thinking 'bout those good times
Now he's brought back to life on the soup!

By Alexis Y:

Tommy the turkey is not gone
He's hibernating and listening to a song
When he comes back
His strut won't be whack
Maybe this time he'll arrive with loud gong

By rogerPAT Adams: 

When he struts it's more of a wobble
No matter if ground, grass or cobble
Though it might seem rude
When he's in the mood
I've heard he loves to gobble!

By Jack Ellison:

Tommy can be very rude at times 
But down deep, his star really shines 
His heart glows bright 
Nothing bad I can write 
Like his author, he's a master of rhyme"
Categories: cobble, tribute,
Form: Limerick

In the Garden

Fuchsia panels
Standing parallel, like soldiers standing to attention
Push them forward, and venture onward

Like a woodpecker pecked cloth spread across the atmosphere
A permeable shelter of green does cover the cobble below
The darks and the lights of the jades and the emeralds
Add shimmer and flatness to this world of calm

Suspended from somewhere, someplace above
Hang scattered hues of violet
Almost candy floss like
Breaking up and breaking through the veil of green

Clusters of red also
Climbing up, up
Reaching towards the skies
Though forever trapped within their own dwelling 

Observe, the kaleidoscope of colours

.............................................

And then, once more, the fuchsia panels
Standing parallel, like soldiers standing to attention

Push them forward - and leave behind…
Categories: cobble, garden, happiness, image, imagination,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member New England

the sea winds calling
           calling beach tides thrilling
                  thrilling woodlands for hiking
	                hiking along streams vibrant 
		             vibrant wildlife still sprawling
	                           sprawling plant life enthralling
	                                 enthralling cobble streets for strolling
                      strolling perfection in a New England town ~~
                       a New England town of actual living sounds -
                     sounds like I should permanently settle down:

Leading a simple life are solid folk.
Many fish the sea for their living.
In city life, they would be slowpokes,
but here time is for deep breathing.
Old lighthouses dot an idyllic coast
and fishing boats fill the scenic harbors.
There’s shellfish aplenty for dining ardor.
Many inns are old homes of lace and charm,
reminiscent of America’s youth.
There are old horse bridges and farms
built when pride was America’s truth.
There is much history to relish
and nature that stirs one zealous.
New England is the good life embellished
and an address that I would cherish.
Categories: cobble, beauty, culture, environment, happy,
Form: Rhyme


Fortress

Fortress


Stone by weathered cobble I build,
calloused hands ache in sweet surrender
Mortar’d affection of a coalesced consistency,
mixed and blended, bound by love’s tether 

Stacking to heights of protective design
Patterned on roaming hillsides, serpentine wanderings,
Lush green fields crawl, blue sky diversions,
as song birds whistle to the day

And I sweat, my brow now drenched,
muscles pushed to horizonary boundaries,
tattered clothes sway in late afternoon breezes
Still I push on, fitting, finding, filling this need

Something so precious as glistening morning dreams,
crystalline musings, fragile bisque castings
Destined for my world, beyond battlefield dawns,
sifting serene country settings…quiet peace

The long day ends, I marvel at my accomplishment
steadfast and suited to defend in sunset flames,
turrets of observative reachings soar above
timber and heavy iron chain…gated sanctuary

Now my love you may rest…
beneath starry heavens and comet renderings,
upon your bed of satin feathered sighs as with my love,
I have built this fortress…around your heart 




**I was listening to the Sting song “Fortress around your heart” and was inspired to write this one. 
And for those who noticed, yes I did make up a few words, but I’ll just invoke “poetic license” in those cases : )
Categories: cobble, devotion, love,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member 2020 Holidays

My room is a mess - it's an archaeological record of boredom.
Christmas, Christmas, come on Christmas.
It's 4 days 'til Christmas. Why don't I go to my room and do NOTHING??

The clock ticking sounds like a large horse clomping over cobble stones. 
Last year there were wall-to-wall parties - so many that you had to carry a change of clothes with you.

In 2020 there's nothing to do - but I don't have to tell YOU (my reader). Except for the whole school thing. Nothing to do but study. I read, on that webber-net thing that 38% of students are failing.

Because of the pandemic - oh, not that virus monster - the boredom pandemic - the London-tower-lonely state of slow-motion distress that’s invisibly gripped us all.

Can we hold on people? The hard-won, delicious truth is that there’s hope. Vaccines - a bunch of 'em. Is it possible to let worries go this season and simply treasure our lives?

Just this month we have or had Hanukah, Kwanza, Festivus.
Hopefully, you made wild, monkey-love on December 14th - that was "International Monkey Day" - I couldn't join you - of course - but I'm just sayin.  =]

Look it up - almost every day is some kind of celebration or invent your own - if Ice Cream Day, Lemon Cupcake Day, Go Caroling Day or Crossword Puzzle Day don't do it for ya.

The important gifts, this year, are fun, attention and love.
Categories: cobble, 11th grade, august, christmas,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Rent of Judgement

I've traipsed down a cobble of your path.
If you're ever lost, forgotten or misstep
I'll surely spruce up a room for you.
It'll be on the mundane -humble side 
but safe-warm and welcoming
like in a child's sunlit dream.
I can cloak the well-worn floor
with a pattern of your choice.
There'll be no rent (of judgement).
Only a gray shoulder to stain 
with the colors of your 
desperation and heaviness.

We'll whisper of the misty past 
untangle the present and its jaggedness
pan the gold from the slag of tomorrow.
I'll gently lay a patch upon
that blue chip in your heart
for I love you immensely 
you can stay forever if you wish
dear heart
Categories: cobble, love,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Watching the Snow Melt

On a starless rainless night 
'fore my eyes... 
The last of the snow-hill, 
Wind-blown... 
Melts

Left...
Is wet-marks, 
On cobble-stone 
Till, the next snowflake...
.
.
.
.
.
Drops
Categories: cobble, weather,
Form: Verse

Romance Novel

We live in a romance novel, one with misery and dread 
Where thoughts come to perform in our twisted heads
View and suspicion, leaving us dead 
A vacant shell of what life we once led 

Lost in the shadows, once alone and so cold
Looking for love, weeping for someone to hold
Like roses wandering down to the snow
Lying like blood on the cobble stones

Beneath the darkness of the light moon
I lay and hear a howling tune
Carried to my ear by the sorrowing wind
Listening to it I find I am again

I hear a voice so soft and so sweet
It carries to me a vision of mi petit 
My love, my one and only
Kissing you through my dreams, we’ll no longer be lonely

I sleep my life away in the day
So that at night you can come to play
And I will be within your arms
If you will have me as your girl

No longer do I find this story sick
And my life I feel is no more a wreck
With you besides me in my heart
And promising that we’ll never be apart

I say today to whisper here
We live in a romance novel
This time without the tears
Of you and me falling free

I am yours, and you are all I need
Categories: cobble, life, me, romance, life,
Form:

Premium Member Ouroboros

do not look for me
among gravestones by black attire
   once chiselled ergo sum
but instead a mother’s arms
a womb from whence laid cobble stones
I paved in tears, in many strides
and tread along forever
then glistening bud
and falling leaf
find me somewhere in between
where I’ve sat
among scenes of many views
the hourglass and all its sand
a grain within grains, find me
and shall not all ends
deliver all beginnings
Categories: cobble, death, deep, life, metaphor,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Last Organ Grinder

He walks through  murky puddles cobble stone
    City full of busy sounds and movements
        Time advancing enhancing improvements.

Passer-byers in the youthful sunny' hours
    Social complexity of daily life
        Yearning at the hand's fundamental strife.

With his organ strapped over his shoulder,
    Brightly coloured, moving from place to place.
        The cutest monkey, large grin on its face.

Round its neck a chain hooked to its collar.
    It sits wearing a red little outfit
        Trimmed in white, fancied its spirited wit.

Swishing its long tail, holding a tin cup
    Dancing to music, a spark in its eye
        Collecting coins from giving passersby.

While the organ grinder cranks his organ
    He moves from place to place, to avoid arrest.
        Laws obtain change, loitering, hard expressed.
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: cobble, imagery, music,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Maybe

Another night, as thoughts continue
Churning hours of sleep to a few
Some things lately, don't have a reason
But, answers will unfold with the season
Sometimes you come, to visit my mind
Bringing to me words profoundly kind
The dark of night doesn't seem to blind me
Because, your descriptions of scenes, I will see
Maybe you will walk through doors of my dreams
Where you bring all the sweet magic it seems
Maybe, we'll walk cobble streets in the snow
Looking at frosted, colored lights that glow
Maybe our hands clasped, will never let go
Of all that we share, to forever bestow 

Heidi Sands 

12/1/21
Categories: cobble, dream, love, night,
Form: Rhyme

Jack the Ripper

The man in the alley is insane.
Syphilis eats at his brain.
All dressed in black,
he is ready to attack.

He stalks in the dark of night,
trying to stay out of sight.
A certain type he wants to find.
Whores,filthy whores screams in his mind !

A door opens at a nearby Inn.
Laughter for a moment and silence again.
The click-clack of heels on cobble stone,
as a woman of the night walks home. 
 
A short scream then a moan,
as flesh is cut from bone.
He can hear the music of wind chimes,
as he stabs fourteen times.

He feels joy at her last breath.
Justification is somehow felt by her death.
Her suffering and demise brings delight,
as he disappears into the night.
Categories: cobble, crazy, dark, death, evil,
Form: Rhyme
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